


Repercussions

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Kidnapping, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty years after Varric has left the Inquisition, he wakes up in a darkened room. And it's not the Seeker interrogating him this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All theories and ideas from here on out are to do with a theoretical fourth game, set in the future. This is simply set-up.

Varric wakes up in a chair.

Normally this would not be a particularly surprising event – after all, how many times had his wife roused him from slumber at his desk? – but today there is no desk, no hand-stitched pillow beneath him, no fantastical novel at his fingertips. Today there is only the ache of his bones, the darkness and the creeping feeling of deja-vu.

From the darkness, a voice emerges. “Varric Tethras, the famous author. Hard man to kidnap.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, I am too old for _this_ shit…”

“We expended a good amount of resources –“

“Save it. Look, if you want _Bring Down The Mountain: The Inquisitor’s Story_ , I’d be glad to give you a copy, but this whole kidnap-the-author-and-make-him-narrate trope is kinda played out. Besides,” he adds with a grin, “my last interrogator was a _lot_ more persuasive…”

“Yes, Davri told us that the Seekers of Truth took you in all those years ago.”

He straightens at the name. _Bianca? What had she gotten herself tied up in now?_ “What else did she tell you?”

“Where to find you, how best to distract your family – _darling_ children, by the way…”

“You _dare_ touch my family –“

“Oh, they’re fine. For now.” The owner of the voice steps into the dim light – a dwarf, nobody he would care to know, with Coterie markings all over her tunic. “And as long as you play by our rules, they’ll be none the wiser.”

He considers his options – his youngest would be safe as long as she remained with her mother, and the elder two could handle anything between them. He could see no immediate danger – despite the threats, they clearly needed him for something. He smiles, relaxing into the chair.

“Alright,” he says. “What do you want to know?”

“The Inquisition.”

“Oh, seriously, the book _just_ came out –“

“They are a threat,” interrupts the rogue, “to every right-thinking dwarf -”

“And how did you come to that stunningly inaccurate conclusion?”

“We know about the arcanist.”

“Dagna? She’s harmless - well, mostly harmless…”

“We know that she and the Inquisitor had a plan regarding the reconnection of dwarves to the Fade.”

“That’s _ridiculous_ -”

“We know what they did to you.”

He stops, jaw setting. “And what exactly did they do to me? You sound insane.”

“And yet you do not deny it…” She smiles slightly, though there is no humour to it. “Tell me, Tethras, how well do you sleep now that the dreams come?”

For a moment the memory stirs - _take it back, damn you, take it away from me I can’t I can’t_ \- but he manages a laugh, leaning forward. “Ask my wife. I’ve never had a Stone-dream.”

“I read the account. I know your past. Don’t lie to me.”

He opens his mouth, a smart comment at the ready, but it dies on his tongue as the sound of soft giggling filters through the room. He stares at the woman, fire in his eyes. He would know that giggle anywhere. “Give her back.”

She smiles. “Of course. As soon as you tell me everything.”

“Give her BACK!” he roars, jumping from the chair. At once, shadows around him turn to steel, blades and arrows at his neck. “What did you do to her? Where’s my girl?”

“She is as safe as I said earlier.” The woman motions, and behind him a door is opened. In the harsh light, he can see the silhouette of his youngest daughter. “Come in, sweetie. Your daddy is right here.”

“Papa?” She shuffles in, and he bends down to meet her, smile wide.

“Hey, sweetheart. Where have you been hiding?”

She rushes into his arms with the carefree abandon he is so used to, and he holds her tightly as she tells him of the man who had come to the house. “Mama had a nap right away, and the man said if I was very good I could come and see you, and I know you said I shouldn’t talk to strangers but Mama was asleep and I didn’t know what to do -”

“It’s alright, Ilsa, you did good. Where’s everyone else?”

“Anthony went away with Uncle Bull last night, and the birdies are flying, and I don’t know where anyone else is.” She wriggles in his arms. “Papa, too tight.”

“Sorry.” He hoists her up, settling back into the chair and sitting her in his lap. “Papa’s been talking to these lovely people. Say hello, nice lady.” He glares over his daughter’s head to the woman.

“Hello, dear little Ilsa. Your daddy’s just getting ready to tell a story. Isn’t that nice?” Her smile is kind but her eyes are sharp.

The girl bounces in his lap. “Story?”

He takes a moment. His wife was out for the count – still alive, he _had_ to believe that right now – and nobody else would know he was missing for days. His son and elder daughter were wildcards, keeping their own time. He was not due at the Guild until the end of the week, and his weekly appointment with Rivaini and Daisy had been pushed back anyway… he was on his own this time.0

Taking a deep breath, he smiles. “Alright, a story. About Aunty Dagna and Uncle Dorian, and how two dwarves got their dreams back.”


	2. Chapter 2

He is hardly one to worry, but the Seeker was late. And the Seeker was never late. And any other day, he would not have minded, but… he regards the ring in his hands with a frown. Alright, so maybe it _was_ a little soon to be asking such a big question, but… well, he was not getting any younger, and they had been through a lifetime of bullshit already. He wanted her to be happy, and he wanted to be happy with her, and – he stops himself, shaking his head. _Overthinking again. Damnit, Seeker, the one time I need you to be prompt…_

His head jerks up as footsteps hurry towards the door, pocketing the ring and rising from his seat as the door opens. Cassandra looks flushed, almost giddy – if it were not for Dorian at her arm, urging her towards the bed, he would be amused by the whole thing. But as the mage insists on her ‘resting up’, Varric can feel the knot of fear beginning to wind in his stomach.

“What’s -”

“Oh, Varric, thank the Maker, I thought we’d have to send out for you – listen,” Dorian says gravely, resting his hands on the dwarf’s shoulders. “Don’t let her do _anything_ strenuous, you hear me? No raucous love-making, no hitting targets with swords, nothing like that. Just make her stay in that bed -”

“Dorian!” She is laughing, and Varric’s eyes slide from the sombre mage to the surprisingly-cheerful Seeker, the worry easing considerably.

“Just… promise me you won’t let her out of your sight.”

He smiles up at the mage. “That, I _can_ do.”

“Excellent! Knew I could count on you. And as for _you_ ,” he adds, turning to face her with a sharp look, “don’t you dare think about it. I’ll have the Inquisitor post guards, don’t think I won’t!” He stalks out with purpose, and as the door slams behind him, Varric turns to Cassandra with a look.

“Alright, what happened?”

She laughs again, a deliriously joyous sound and he cannot help but take comfort it in, moving to the bed and taking her outstretched hand. “It is… Varric, I did not know before today, I swear…”

“You’re scaring me, Seeker. What’s going on?”

She pats the bed, waiting for him to sit before explaining. “Dorian and Dagna were asking me about the Rite of Tranquility, and the Seeker knowledge surrounding it – you know of their ideas, yes?” At his nod, she smiles slightly. “I think they were on the verge of a breakthrough, but I began to feel ill, and Dorian insisted on taking me to the physician, and… well, I…” She stops again, taking a moment. “Varric, I know this is rather fast, and we have never talked about – well, about our future -”

He stares at her. “Seeker?”

“I am with child.” Her free hand rests against her abdomen. “It explains much of my state over the past few weeks. Dorian is beside himself, as you saw, but I… I would know what your thoughts are.”

He closes his eyes for a long moment before the laugh escapes him, a rich chuckle that shakes the bed as his hand tightens around her. “Maker, Seeker,” he murmurs, “as plot twists go, this has to beat 'em all.” He pulls out the ring, admiring it as she gasps. “I had it all planned out, and you just had to upstage me.”

“ _Oh!_ ”

“You’re right. We haven’t talked about our future.” He slides off the bed, kneeling before her. “But the future is going to come, and I want it to be ours, if you’ll have me.”

She reaches out to him, arms wrapping around his neck as she all but tackles him to the floor. “Yes! Oh, Varric, a thousand times yes!”

“Hey now, didn’t Sparkler tell you no strenuous activity?” he teases, though his heart is light in his chest as he holds her tightly.

“Oh, hush. What he does not know…” Her lips find his, tender and sweet, and he smiles against them. “Besides,” she adds, pulling back to smirk down at him, “I would celebrate our union with a more _physical_ -”

*

“You know, on second thoughts, we can probably skip that part,” Varric decides as Ilsa leans into him. “Your mother would kill me.”

“Where’s Mama?” she asks.

He presses a kiss to her crown. “She’ll be here soon, sweetheart.” Levelling another glare at his captors, he tries not to let his thoughts linger on his wife. _Maker, let her be well. Let her be safe._

“I do not need to hear about your entanglements with a woman of no consequence,” drawls the woman across the table. “Move on.”

*

Dorian is resplendent in his usual haunt – the comfiest chair in the library, naturally – and does not hear the man until he clears his throat. Varric takes an absurd pleasure in watching him almost fall from the awkward pile of limbs his sitting posture entails.

“Is she -”

“Fine. Absolutely fine.” He leans against the shelves, chuckling. “My wife-to-be is fine.”

Dorian laughs uproariously. “Fantastic. I forgot you had plans of your own for the evening. How perfect that she upstaged you so!”

“If you want the wine back, it’s -”

“Oh, keep it. Even if she can’t drink it, you deserve it.”

“How goes the research?”

Dorian’s smile turns a touch sour. “We’ve hit rather a large stumbling block, I’m afraid. But Dagna thinks she knows someone who can help. Some savant she has a hunch about. He should be here in a few days.”

“Mage?”

“No, he’s a dwarf. It’s quite the surprise for me.” He sounds amused by the whole thing. “But Dagna is certain, and I trust her. She is… quite remarkable. Did you know she defied her father to study at a Circle?” He smiles, a soft curve of the lips rarely seen. “I never thought I would have so much in common with a dwarf, but there it is.”

Varric nods. If anyone could be relied on in the pursuit of magical knowledge, it was the arcanist. “She sure puts the rest of us to shame.”

“Oh, come now. You’re not so bad yourself – clearly,” he adds _sotto voce_ , grinning. “I mean, a dwarf and a human having children? That’s quite the long shot…”

*

“This is ridiculous,” growls the woman, slapping the table loudly. Ilsa flinches at the sound, before scowling and holding a finger up to her lips.

“Shush! It’s story time. No loud voices at story time.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. She’s not like your mother, she’s… allowed to shout.” Varric’s arms tighten imperceptibly around her. “Aunty Hawke gave her special permission.”

The woman growls again. “You and your ridiculous pet humans. You _spit_ on our noble race.”

He presses a kiss to the little girl’s head. “I’m stronger for knowing them,” he murmurs, “and blessed because of them.” He looks up at her, glaring. “What have your Ancestors done for _you_ lately?”

She watches him for a long moment before reaching over, pulling Ilsa from his grip. “Delivered leverage,” she says softly, smile wicked. “Now, where were we?”


	3. Chapter 3

Varric’s heart feels tight.

“She has _nothing_ to do with this and you know that.”

“Finish your story, Varric.” The woman bounces Ilsa in her arms. “We want the story, don’t we, Ilsa?”

The girl looks more worried than he has ever seen her. It hurts. “Papa, the loud lady’s scaring me.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” He manages a smile, for her. “Right here. We’re all just… going to finish the story. Okay?”

She pulls a face, but nods, reaching for his hand. He wraps around her fingers, squeezing gently. “Papa, is Mama coming?”

He does not want to lie. He does not want to lie to his sweet daughter. His eyes meet the woman’s.

“Yeah.” _Maker, prove me right. Deliver me my wife._ “She’s coming.”

*

Dagna paces as she talks.

“Alright, so – we’ve always known that the Fade is inaccessible to dwarves unless physically brought there, and the Qunari experience something altogether different. They consider it a land of the dead, forbidden to enter, and they don’t dream at all – but they still have mages.” She stops, a slight frown marring her brow. “It’s _more_ than just a connection to the Fade that gives them magic… hmm…”

“Another time,” prompts Dorian, making a note of it.

“Yes, of course. Anyway! Dwarves have no connection – their lyrium resistance has to be connected, that much has always been assumed. The mythology of the Stone and the Ancestors, whilst powerful, _could_ be attributed to any other cultural idea – the Old Gods, or the elven Pantheon. The Grey Wardens found areas where elven and dwarven stonework met, old areas that -”

“Dagna.” Cassandra fans herself with her gloves, frowning. “Please, it is rather warm, and I would try and understand this before I boil to death.”

“Sorry!” She stops pacing. “Alright. I came to the conclusion that the Fade humans and elves experience would not be the same as any Fade that might have existed for dwarves prior to their resistance to lyrium.”

“We surmised that the dwarven Fade would not simply have _vanished_ ,” continues Dorian, remaining in his seat as he explains. “More likely, the dwarves’ resistance built up over time, until they simply did not dream anymore.”

“Except… for one.” Dagna gestures behind the small group, and Varric’s eyebrows raise as he recognises the boy.

“Sandal?”

He beams, waving. Beside him, his father looks concerned but manages a worn smile.

Varric turns back to Dagna. “You mean, _he_ had a dream? The kid who works with lyrium and runes?”

“Yep!”

“I am… suddenly liking this less and less.”

Dagna hesitates before continuing. “Sandal has had… visions, at the very least, and I can think of no other rational explanation. He is, in some small way, connected to a Fade or a Fade-like plane of existence.”

“With a few cursory examinations, we have established there is a link – a link we can exploit,” adds Dorian. “It should be painless, and do him no harm, but it will require an extraordinary amount of power to maintain the link. I will be pushed to my limits.”

“Sandal and I will go in through the portal -”

“Oh, no.” Varric shakes his head. “You want me to go in with you, don’t you?”

Dagna’s hands are clasped together. “Just as an observer! I’m not going to do anything, I just want to _see_ it – like a scouting mission!”

“No way. Last time I was in any Fade, I lost my best friend. I’m not going in there again.”

Dorian leans in. “Varric, I know you’re not exactly… enthralled by the idea, but the only other dwarf I would trust is knee-deep in the Fallow Mire. If I could do this, you know I would, but… someone needs to have Dagna’s back for me, and Bohdahn trusts you with Sandal’s life.”

The dwarf thinks for a long moment, before letting out a long sigh. “Alright, alright. But I’m not touching anything, you hear me?”

Dagna beams at him, and Dorian claps a hand on his shoulder. “Perfect! With any luck you three will be back in time for drinks tonight.”

“They had better be,” growls Cassandra, reaching for Varric’s hand. “They had better be.”

*

The air is uncomfortably close – moreso than his previous visits to the Fade. Or, he supposes, to the human Fade. This seemed to be painful proof that they were not the same place. But Dagna is already talking to herself at a mile a minute, and Sandal…

Well, Sandal is quite calm about the whole thing. _Someone has to be,_ thinks Varric.

“Oh!” Dagna’s surprised exclamation draws his eyes away from the boy. A spirit, an actual spirit dwarf, floats in front of her, head tilted in curiosity.

“My children,” it intones softly, extending an arm out to Dagna.

“Don’t let it touch you,” he shouts, and she takes a step back.

“I… I don’t think I have a choice,” she says nervously, backing up until she hits a wall of stone. “Varric?”

_Shit. Shit. I’ve got a kid coming, and a woman to marry. I can’t take the risk. I can’t… shit. Sorry, Seeker._ He lunges in-between the two, and the spirit’s hand rests lightly on Varric’s chest.

“Welcome home,” it says softly.

Everything explodes in a riot of colour and feeling, and he is _screaming_ -

*

“Papa!”

He catches his breath, eyes snapping open – _when had he closed them?_ \- to look at his daughter. She squeezes his hand.

“Nightmares,” she says sagely.

“Yeah. Nightmares.” He does not glance up at his captor, does not need to meet her eyes to know that she understands exactly what happened. But her interest is palpable as she leans in closer.

“What did you see?”

He takes a deep breath before responding.

“Everything.”

*

“Varric! Varric!”

He keeps his eyes closed. He cannot bear the sensation, creeping against his skin like electricity. His head hurts, Maker, his head feels like it could explode…

“Varric, _please_ -” Dagna’s voice cracks. He looks up -

The spirit cups her chin, her eyes widening as her mouth forms a soft ‘oh’.

“Dagna,” Varric gasps.

The spirit pulls back, and Dagna’s hands twitch as she does the impossible. She is fire and ice and sheer _power_ , the smile on her lips unashamedly filled with wonder as she flexes her fingers. The flames dance and the ice cracks. Her breathing is heavy, but she stands tall. He cannot quite believe it.

“Andraste’s ass,” he whispers, eyes fixed on her as he pulls himself up to his feet. “You’re a mage. You’re a dwarven _mage_.”

The fire flares around her hand, her laugh sweet. “Varric, I… I can’t believe it!”

“That makes two of us… Sandal?” He glances back to where the boy stands, confronted by the spirit.

“You… you brought them home?” The spirit hovers with what Varric can only assume in uncertainty. Sandal smiles, a strangely serene expression as he raises his own hand to meet the spirit.

“Not all of them,” he says softly. “Not yet.”


	4. Chapter 4

Cassandra sits at the end of his bed.

“Varric?”

He does not respond. He does not want to talk it out. He is sick of people trying to get him to talk – for once, the story is too much.

It had been two weeks since Dagna and Varric had fallen back into the world. Two weeks since Dagna had set his shirt on fire and frozen Cassandra to the floor, two weeks since Dorian had cried as he held Dagna tightly, two weeks since Bodahn had asked where his son was -

Two weeks since Varric had refused to say a word.

“Varric, I… I thought you should know, I am… leaving.”

He turns his head slowly, horrified by her statement. “What?” His voice croaks, and he swallows as he sits up. “You – _leaving?_ ”

She manages a slight smile. “No. But Cole said you needed a shock.”

His fists bunch around the sheets. “Fuck, Seeker, what are you -”

“Varric, I do not want to talk about it. But I do want to talk. _With_ you, _about_ you, about… anything.” She shuffles closer. “I know right now you are… struggling, and I know there is little I can say or do to help you, but I _miss_ you. I miss… I miss talking with you. I miss ruining your plans with my own.” Her hand comes to rest over his fist. “The father of my child should… talk to it.”

He lowers his gaze to her still-flat stomach. “It?”

“I cannot yet tell whether it is a boy or a girl.” She takes his hand, resting it on her stomach. “Can you?”

He hesitates for a long moment before his fingers soften against her, a sigh escaping him. “A girl,” he says. “It’d be just my luck to get outnumbered by women I can’t handle.”

She chuckles, and he smiles at the feeling beneath his hand. “I would not mind having two handsome men in my life.”

“I’ll let Sparkler know,” he drawls, before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a tight embrace. “Shit, Seeker, I’m sorry -”

“Hush,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his head. “You have been through a unique ordeal. I am simply glad you are here with me now.”

“How do you _bear_ it? How do you manage to get any rest with those… those images all night?”

“Dagna says it will get easier. You will feel rested once more.”

He shivers. “Cassandra…”

Her arms tighten around him, one hand gentle and soothing as it strokes his hair. “You _will_ ,” she promises. “Everything will work out.”

*

“And it did,” he says, smiling at Ilsa. “We moved back to Kirkwall in time for your big sister’s arrival, then we had Anthony and eventually you. I couldn’t have written a happier ending.”

“But you still have bad dreams sometimes,” says the little girl, looking unconvinced.

“Yeah, but so do you, and so does Anthony and your mother. So it’s not that bad, is it? Because we’re not alone. Not ever.”

He feels it before he sees it – a shadow, quicker than his eyes can catch, leaving bodies in its wake. The honour guard are dead before they hit the floor.

The woman’s eyes widen. “You brought a spirit,” she whispers. “Ancestors help us, you brought one back with you.”

“Not exactly,” he says slowly, hauling himself from the chair. “He’s not much of a spirit anymore, and he was there before all this began…”

Behind him, the door opens, the shadow of the Seeker unmistakeable as it falls across the floor. Her eyes are dangerous, her voice even moreso.

“ _Where. Is. My. Daughter?_ ”

Cole appears before him, smiling as he takes Ilsa into his arms and vanishes again only to appear behind Cassandra. “Sunshine, daisies and buttercups, the nightingale’s song, all fade in comparison – hello, little Ilsa. I like your hair today.”

She squeals with delight at Cole’s words, reaching out with wide hands to grab at the brim of his hat as he rocks her back and forth, slipping out the door quietly.

Cassandra closes it behind them. “You came into my _home_ ,” she murmurs, “you took my husband in the night and you took my daughter in the day. I cannot forgive your actions. I will not be kind.”

“Do not assume this is over,” hisses his captor, backing away into the shadows.

“Oh, I’d say it’s over,” drawls Varric, gesturing behind her – Blackwall looms over the woman, grabbing her arms. “You might want to talk. A lot.”

Cassandra stalks forward, raising her shield. “She can talk later. Right now, she should shut up.” And without breaking stride, she slams the shield against the woman’s face, leaving her bloodied and out for the count.

“Damn, Seeker!” Varric reaches for his wife, but she is already halfway across the room, heading for the door once more. She drops her shield before hoisting her girl out of Cole’s arms. 

“Oh! Oh, are you alright, my love?”

“Mama!” She giggles as Cassandra spins her around. “Mama, you missed the story!”

“ _I’m_ fine too,” Varric points out with a wry smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “You know, in case you were wondering.”

The woman shoots him a look over her shoulder. “You are not so defenseless,” she points out, before resting Ilsa on her hip and beckoning him over. “But I _was_ wondering,” she adds in a softer voice. “Your study was ransacked, and you were missing, and I thought… Maker, Varric, I did not know _what_ to think.”

He reaches up to cup her cheek. “Hey, I’m alright. What about you? Ilsa said you, ah… took a nap.”

She pulls a face. “I ‘woke up’ when Blackwall came. Lucky for us that he finished Ilsa’s new rocking horse and took leave to deliver it personally. What did they want with you?”

“What do you think?” He taps his temple. “I’m a fucking doorway -”

“ _Varric!_ ”

“Papa!”

“Sorry, I meant I’m a… blasted… doorway to the Dwarven Fade. Dagna’s too well protected for them to get her, but the word is out there – the Stone is a lie.” His shoulders straighten. “I heard the rumours about the slavers. If Minrathous is onto us… well, I don’t exactly blame Orzammar for wanting more information, especially when the Inquisition’s been hiding it for almost two _decades_ …”

“The war with Par Vollen -”

“Yeah, I don’t think that excuse is gonna fly.” He strokes Ilsa’s hair. “Come on, let’s get home. I’m done playing the hero, let someone else straighten this mess out.” He turns to Blackwall and Cole, smile brittle. “Thanks, you two. Think you can take care of her until the cavalry arrive?”

Cassandra pulls a face. “Varric…”

“I’m serious! I outlasted Kirkwall, I did my time with the Inquisition! I’m too _old_ for another adventure, alright? I just want to go home and put my daughter to bed and make passionate love to my wife and then sleep this whole shit off. Is that so much to ask?”

She reaches to cup his chin, tilting his head up to meet his eyes as she smiles. “No,” she says softly. “Nobody has earned it more. Come home with me, husband.”

He grins, stretching up to press a lingering kiss to her lips. “I love it when you call me that.”


	5. Chapter 5

He dreams of his mother, and of Hawke, and of Cassandra. He dreams of his children, forever young and happy. He talks with Dagna and Dorian, when they come to him. Once, he swears he heard Solas. It was no doubt just a dream.

But he never sees Sandal again.

The guilt of losing someone else to the Fade was tempered for a long time by his own distress – the adjustment had been a lot harder than he would ever admit to, even to Cassandra. She had done her best, but… there was little to be done for a dwarf who could dream.

He dreams, and in time he heals.

*

“Don’t stay up too late,” he mumbles, kissing her shoulder as he lies back against the pillow.

“One more chapter, I promise.” She settles in with the manuscript, smiling as she turns the next page. His hand reaches to cover hers.

“Be here when I wake up?”

She hesitates for a moment, before setting the folio down and blowing out the candle as she snuggles into his side. “They would have to kill me to claim you,” she murmurs.

His arm tightens around her. “Don’t.”

“You think I could not take them?” she asks with a light laugh. “Where is your confidence, husband of mine?”

“Cassandra -”

“Hush.” She meets his eyes, smile gentle. “We will prevail. We always do.”

He hesitates for a long moment before pulling her in closer, lips crushing against hers. All thoughts of sleep suddenly fly out the window as her hands bunch in his chest hair.

*

Tonight there is no dream. He simply stands in the swirling fog of the Fade, frowning slightly.

“Well, this is a disappointment.”

_Varric._

He turns at the sound of his name, a familiar face standing in a sea of spirits. His heart drops. “You… where have you been?”

_They will return. They are ready for the children of stone._

He stares at the man, shaking his head slightly, before the spirits twist and rail, the roar of demonic voices crying out around them -

*

“ _No!_ ”

He sits up, hunched over his knees as he catches his breath. Beside him, Cassandra reaches out.

“Varric? What’s wrong?”

He rubs the sweat from his brow, turning to look at her with wide eyes. “It’s starting. They’re all going to be connected to the Fade again, and the demons are ready. Hundreds of thousands of them, ready to break out through the dwarves.”

She stares up at him, shoulders tensing at the very notion. “How could you -”

“He told me.” He swallows thickly. “Sandal told me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and liked! I have so many thoughts regarding this completely off-the-wall idea, and couldn't possibly explain them all in this story. But if you're interested, just ask me - either here or on Tumblr (same username)


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